The Condom Post
I hate condoms. Loath 'em. Dispise 'em.
I don't dislike the concept of condoms. I think they're cool for what they do and fully think that they should be available in 5 gallon buckets attached to all the lamp posts around all high schools and colleges.
I just hate using them. I'm 40 years old. Do you have any idea of how many of these suckers I've used and on how many? OK, wait ... that didn't sound too flattering. Go back. Stop thinking about that.
What I mean is that I should be at the point in my personal evolution that I shouldn't have to use the fucking things. So what's brought about this latest venemous rant, you ask? Well, there's four of them and they're really really cute.
No seriously ... in a universal nose-thumbing move, after struggling with infertility for 10 years, I seem to be the fertility goddess herself. I can get pregnant just washing Darling Hubby's underpants. Hubs and I have no problem with this - we're still aiming for one more ankle biter before retiring the old uterus - but there's a tiny hitch. I've been limping around on a bad knee for 2 years now. I have to get this thing operated on before I do any more damage to the joint. There's also a wee little sub-hitch: I incurred this injury on my job and the SC Worker's Compensation people have a most wanted poster of me up in the foyer because I got pregnant before the morons at the insurance company and my doctors could get co-ordinated to get me into the OR.
I was on birth control AND breastfeeding at the time.
Thus the prophylactic pantomime.
First thing that I hate about condoms is the reduced sensation (for the penis equipped person). I can't stand that. I can't abide having sex with a person who's clearly not getting half of what he normally gets out of it. It's like having a convo on a cell phone that's breaking up: "can you feel me NOW?"
I also dispise the fact that I find myself with a perfectly fine, ready, and willing penis in one hand and I'm fumbling around on the nightstand for a condom with the other. That blows large - no pun intended. I mean, how rude! You lavish love on the one-eyed fella for several minutes until you have an impressive edifice of enthusiasm and then go: "OK, so I'm gonna slap this latex HazMat suit on you, don't let it affect your performance!"
*Fumble, fumble, crinkle, bite, tear, roll, roll ("ouch, watch the hair!"), roll, roll*
OK, ready! Uhm ... hellooo?
Special public service announcement: Boners will get bored and go away if you fanny about too long! And I have small children. Any window of opportunity to make naughty is brief. I can't afford to have my willy wilt while I'm struggling with a goddamn condom. Nothing like wasting a perfectly good erection. It can throw off your whole day.
It probably irks Darling Hubby a bit as well, come to think of it.
And lastly there's also the basic moral outrage. I mean I'm married to the penis-bearer in question. One of the unmitigated joys of marriage is the freedom to just randomly and with happy abandon make the beast with two backs. No worrying about getting caught, no fretting over what position, no wondering about wandering diseases, and no stressing about fucking birth control!
Damn it!
Oh, well ... needs must when the devil drives. *grumble*grumble*
I don't dislike the concept of condoms. I think they're cool for what they do and fully think that they should be available in 5 gallon buckets attached to all the lamp posts around all high schools and colleges.
I just hate using them. I'm 40 years old. Do you have any idea of how many of these suckers I've used and on how many? OK, wait ... that didn't sound too flattering. Go back. Stop thinking about that.
What I mean is that I should be at the point in my personal evolution that I shouldn't have to use the fucking things. So what's brought about this latest venemous rant, you ask? Well, there's four of them and they're really really cute.
No seriously ... in a universal nose-thumbing move, after struggling with infertility for 10 years, I seem to be the fertility goddess herself. I can get pregnant just washing Darling Hubby's underpants. Hubs and I have no problem with this - we're still aiming for one more ankle biter before retiring the old uterus - but there's a tiny hitch. I've been limping around on a bad knee for 2 years now. I have to get this thing operated on before I do any more damage to the joint. There's also a wee little sub-hitch: I incurred this injury on my job and the SC Worker's Compensation people have a most wanted poster of me up in the foyer because I got pregnant before the morons at the insurance company and my doctors could get co-ordinated to get me into the OR.
I was on birth control AND breastfeeding at the time.
Thus the prophylactic pantomime.
First thing that I hate about condoms is the reduced sensation (for the penis equipped person). I can't stand that. I can't abide having sex with a person who's clearly not getting half of what he normally gets out of it. It's like having a convo on a cell phone that's breaking up: "can you feel me NOW?"
I also dispise the fact that I find myself with a perfectly fine, ready, and willing penis in one hand and I'm fumbling around on the nightstand for a condom with the other. That blows large - no pun intended. I mean, how rude! You lavish love on the one-eyed fella for several minutes until you have an impressive edifice of enthusiasm and then go: "OK, so I'm gonna slap this latex HazMat suit on you, don't let it affect your performance!"
*Fumble, fumble, crinkle, bite, tear, roll, roll ("ouch, watch the hair!"), roll, roll*
OK, ready! Uhm ... hellooo?
Special public service announcement: Boners will get bored and go away if you fanny about too long! And I have small children. Any window of opportunity to make naughty is brief. I can't afford to have my willy wilt while I'm struggling with a goddamn condom. Nothing like wasting a perfectly good erection. It can throw off your whole day.
It probably irks Darling Hubby a bit as well, come to think of it.
And lastly there's also the basic moral outrage. I mean I'm married to the penis-bearer in question. One of the unmitigated joys of marriage is the freedom to just randomly and with happy abandon make the beast with two backs. No worrying about getting caught, no fretting over what position, no wondering about wandering diseases, and no stressing about fucking birth control!
Damn it!
Oh, well ... needs must when the devil drives. *grumble*grumble*
posted by MrsEvilGenius at 7:05 AM
7 Comments:
Have never ever ever ever worn one. But then again, I have only slept with 2 women in my life and I married both of them. And now, there is no need because there is no sex - at least none involving a partner. Sigh.
Good to see you back Blue. Hope the family is doing great.
Congrats on the new baby, and hope everything works out with you!!!
-Lori
I sympathize... we tried condoms precisely three times way back in college, and both of us hated them each and every time. Switched to alternate birth control (the pill) as soon as possible.
Mr. Diva and I have been using condoms since the birth of Child #1. We were told we'd never conceive again, but just to be on the safe side, we'd better at least use condoms. Hah! One time we started without and finished with said prophylatic, yet we found out a few weeks later that we were having #2. Then dammit if it didn't happen again with #3. Now I tell him that he will not be allowed to look at me unless he's got one on just in case. He hates them. I'm okay with them because when sex is done I can roll over and go to sleep instead of being the one that has to get up to go to the bathroom. Heehee.
Thank you!
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